Candles in the Storm

by Rita Bradshaw

  The parson’s voice brought Daisy out of her thoughts and as she looked across to where the pretty little birds were busying themselves arguing over the choicest morsels, she thought, He’s so nice, the parson. Most people wouldn’t have given the birds a second glance, let alone stopped the pony and trap and commented about them.

  She smiled back at him and for the first time, as their eyes met, Daisy realised the parson was really very good-looking and not all that old, or not for a parson anyway. It was disconcerting, seated next to him as she was, and suddenly Alf’s rudeness took on a whole new slant. She had assumed his attitude was one of resentment because he saw the parson as part of the life which had taken her away from the village, but the way Parson Lyndon had looked at her just now put a different complexion on the afternoon.

  Daisy dropped her eyes, her thoughts causing her cheeks to burn as she pretended to take an interest in the view on her side of the trap.

  Hector smiled to himself. He had seen the sudden awareness and the ensuing blush of confusion, and considered this just as it ought to be in an innocent, artless young girl. Daisy was woman enough to have registered his unspoken declaration of intent and that was quite enough to be going on with for now.

  He adjusted his long legs, making some comment about the lovely evening as he did so to which Daisy replied shyly.

  He was fully aware that she looked upon him first and foremost as a man of the cloth, and, he liked to think, as a friend too, or perhaps a counsellor and teacher on a par with her tutor would be a better definition. Now she had been awakened to the fact that along with those things there were others - that he was an ordinary man made of flesh and blood for a start. There would be plenty of time once she had adjusted to this realisation to present himself as a suitor, but she was still very young and he knew he had to be patient.

  Hector breathed in the warm scented air, smiled again to himself, and allowed Primrose to continue at a steady pace as he engaged Daisy in conversation about nothing more contentious than how she had enjoyed her afternoon with her family.

  ‘You are not seeing this clearly, William, and if it was just your well-being at stake I would say go ahead and learn the hard way. You will always have money behind you and furthermore will always be accepted into good society whatever errors of judgement you make while you bear the Fraser name.’

  ‘The Fraser name!’

  It was said with utter contempt and now Wilhelmina’s voice became even sharper as she said, ‘Yes, the Fraser name. Mock it if you like, but the fact remains you will be forgiven much on the strength of it. If, heaven forbid, this madness of which you speak did come to pass it would not last, you must be aware of that? And when the marriage finished you would recover and go on to make a good life for yourself among your own kind in this male-dominated society in which we live. Oh, yes, you would, and you needn’t shake your head at me in that way. But Daisy . . . she would be cast adrift most cruelly. Tennyson, Ruskin and other writers habitually liken maidens to flowers, but believe me, William, girls of Daisy’s class need to be as tough and enduring as oak trees.’

  William almost fell so abruptly did he turn and march over to the drawing-room windows, and it was from there he said, ‘I thought you of all people would understand. I thought you had some regard for Daisy.’

  ‘I have great regard for her which is why I am speaking to you like this.’

  ‘What about all your talk of women’s rights and how society is rotten from the inside out?’ William’s face was scarlet. ‘Or does all that only apply when it doesn’t affect your own family?’

  Wilhelmina took a steadying breath. Dear, dear, the boy was in a state. Her heart was already palpitating violently from the force of the altercation which had begun some ten minutes earlier when William had arrived at Evenley House and showed her the brooch. She ignored its rapid throbbing as she said, ‘I think you know me better than that, William. I am not speaking in this way because I agree with society, or because its strictures give me any pleasure. Nevertheless, it must be said that Daisy is still a very young woman who knows nothing, or almost nothing, of the world you and I were born into. Can you visualise the child giving orders to your servants? Or accompanying you to dinner parties and holding her own with the ladies who will be there? Women are never so cruel as when a beautiful member of their sex is at a disadvantage, as Daisy would be. In every way.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘It is true, and even if you were foolish enough to give up Greyfriar Hall and turn your back on your family, scandal would follow you wherever you went. People would know who Daisy was and all about her beginnings, you can take my word on that.’

  ‘We wouldn’t be moving in circles where it would matter.’

  ‘Of course you would. For goodness’ sake, at least see this clearly, William, and don’t talk such rubbish. You know as well as I do that there is a very strict code governing introductions, calling and dining, and there is a world of difference between calling and merely leaving cards which would make life unbearable for the child. None of the ladies would call upon Daisy even if they left their cards as a mark of respect to the Fraser name, you can be sure of that. Yes, it sounds so trivial but it signifies social endorsement or total exclusion - and Daisy would be cut wherever she went. The girl would be miserable - no, worse than miserable, destroyed.’

  ‘But, Aunt, times are changing. You are basing all your arguments on how things were twenty or thirty years ago.’ William strode back across the room, sitting down in the chair he had recently vacated and taking Wilhelmina’s cold hands in his own as he repeated again, ‘Times are changing.’

  ‘There are some things that never change.’ She stared into his earnest young face and kept her voice gentle. ‘Don’t do this, William, I beg of you. Daisy gave you the greatest gift one human being can give another when she saved you that day; don’t repay her courage by ruining her life. There is another who will take care of her and love her as she should be loved, and with him she will not suffer the indignities and heartache which would be heaped upon her as your wife.’

  ‘The parson.’ William withdrew his hands, leaning back in the seat. His aunt had made sure he had seen Lyndon’s gift when he had first arrived, and now William knew why. ‘Daisy would never be happy with him, he’s old. Oh, not in years, I grant you, but here, in his head, he is an old man.’

  ‘That’s not fair and you know it.’ Wilhelmina’s voice had resumed its habitual sharpness. ‘Parson Lyndon is a young, good-looking man, and furthermore has some standing in the community. He can provide well for a wife and family, and as his spouse Daisy would have a full and rewarding life.’

  She watched her nephew’s face tighten and recognised the Fraser stubbornness when he said, ‘Surely it is for her to make the choice between us?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be a hypocrite, boy! Any young thing from Daisy’s background would be dazzled at the thought of making such a fine match as yourself, it is only natural. She would not see the disadvantages of such a union. But Daisy does like the parson, and would more than like him if you gave them a chance, I know it.’

  It was some time before William spoke again. Wilhelmina sat quietly studying his bowed head, while all the time inside herself she was saying, ‘Oh, William, William, don’t do this.’

  ‘I love her, Aunt.’ When he eventually raised his head she saw his blue eyes were wet, and it took all of Wilhelmina’s strength for her to say steadily, ‘If that is really the case then allow her her chance of true happiness. Marriage with you would give her no peace or self-respect, society would make sure of that. The gap between you is too wide and love is not enough, William. In these circumstances it is not enough.’

  He closed his eyes and put his hand tightly across them, muttering, ‘I can’t bear to lose her.’

  ‘You will bear it. You are a Fraser, and however much you kick against the pricks there are some strong points in our heritage, boy. Courage, for one. It allowed me to face
the fact that I would be alone and childless all my life, and that I will go out of this world without leaving anything of real worth behind.’

  William’s hand came away from his face and he stared at his aunt who was speaking in a low intense voice, one he had not heard her use before.

  ‘I have never had the words “I love you” said to me,’ Wilhelmina continued. ‘Not by my parents who had no time to lavish on a girl child who was not the required heir; not by your father who was always a cold fish, and certainly not by Francis who was utterly self-absorbed from the cradle. I never had a suitor, or even an admirer.’

  Wilhelmina lay back a little in her chair, her heart was beating so hard it was actually hurting her. ‘But enough of self-pity, such a wretched emotion and one which I heartily despise.’

  William bent forward and took her thin pale hands. Frail fingers curled round young strong ones and there was a long silence before he said, ‘I should go. I would prefer not to be here when she returns.’

  ‘I’ll walk to the door with you.’

  This was an unusual occurrence, and after William had helped the old lady to her feet and given her her polished ebony walking stick with the gold top, they moved very slowly out of the room and into the hall. It was not far from the drawing room to the front door, but nevertheless they had to stop twice for Wilhelmina to catch her breath.

  William kissed his aunt on the forehead before opening the door. On the drive stood the parson’s trap, and he was in the process of helping Daisy down from it. Neither Daisy nor Parson Lyndon was aware of them, William realised, and Daisy was smiling at something the parson must have said as she looked down into his upturned face. Her face was warm and glowing and her eyes bright and starry, and the sight was like a sword thrust straight through William’s heart. He felt his aunt’s hand tighten on his arm but for the life of him couldn’t do anything but simply stare stupidly at the scene in front of him.

  Wilhelmina hadn’t been aware that the parson had offered to bring Daisy home and for a moment felt as stricken for William as the expression on her nephew’s face revealed he was, but then she told herself it was all for the best. Whatever interpretation William put on this, he couldn’t fail to recognise Daisy was not averse to the parson’s company and it reinforced everything she had said earlier.

  Daisy glanced their way the next moment as her feet touched the ground, and Wilhelmina saw William’s face was wiped clean of all expression when he said politely, ‘Parson Lyndon, Daisy, good afternoon. You are just in time to help your mistress back to the drawing room, Daisy, if you would be so kind. I didn’t like to leave her without a hand at her elbow.’

  ‘Of course.’ Daisy stared at William and the light died from her face. The parson had been making her laugh on the way home by attempting to sing one or two of the songs from the operettas composed by Sir Arthur Sullivan and Sir William Gilbert even though he admitted to being tone deaf. She had been amazed in the first instance that Parson Lyndon knew anything other than the hymns they sang in church, and when she had admitted this he had gone on to express his taste in music which was wide and various. He had been attempting to teach her the words to one of the songs from The Mikado as they had arrived at the house, and, she suspected, deliberately trying to make her laugh, but it wasn’t so much his efforts as the fact that she had spotted William’s favourite stallion tethered outside which had suddenly lit up the evening with joy for her. But now here was William, standing in front of her, and his face was cold.

  ‘How are you, William?’ Hector’s voice was pleasant. He could have been speaking to a man half his age by his demeanour, although in fact, there were only seven years separating the two.

  ‘Very well.’ William’s throat was too dry for him to say anything more. He was battling with the insane desire to take this man of the cloth by the throat, much as he had done his uncle.

  ‘Capital, capital.’ Hector spoke as though he was quite unaware of the atmosphere which had become as tense as piano wire, and as Daisy moved quietly to Wilhelmina’s side in the doorway, he added, ‘We have just returned from Daisy’s village and the family were full of praises for the excellent birthday tea you provided, Wilhelmina. A veritable feast.’

  He spoke as though he had been present all afternoon and this was deliberate. Hector did not dislike William Fraser - such an emotion would have been quite out of place in a parson and a grievous sin before the Almighty in one of His under-shepherds - but he considered Wilhelmina’s nephew typical of the young bloods of the present age. The vast majority were intent only on having as riotous a time as possible, and he had dealt with more than one distressed family whose daughter had been ignominiously sent home from her place of service with a full belly. William was a handsome enough youth and furthermore seemed partial to Daisy’s company which made him a hazard to her well-being. He needed to be discouraged from thinking he could toy with her.

  The air was filled with unease after he had finished speaking and it was Wilhelmina who said quickly, ‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ her tone dismissive, before she turned to Daisy. ‘Perhaps you would help me back to the drawing room, child? I confess I am a little tired and the night air strikes cool.’

  He couldn’t give her the brooch and she would assume he had not remembered her birthday. William’s expression was as dark as his thoughts and he did not return the small smile Daisy gave him before she turned away. But then, what did it matter? She was clearly not ill-disposed to the parson’s attentions and if she had invited the man to her family’s home . . . He had always felt Daisy had an incandescence about her, something which could warm his heart or burn his fingers, and now he knew which it was.

  William saw the parson hesitate a moment after the women had disappeared before he said, ‘I mustn’t delay you, William. Please give my kind regards to your father.’

  He found he had to swallow deeply before he could say, ‘Yes, I will. Good evening.’

  ‘Good evening.’

  The parson walked with measured steps into the house, shutting the door gently behind him, and then all was quiet except for the twittering of the birds in the surrounding trees. William stood for a moment more on the drive. He glanced across at the pony and trap which still had the wicker basket on its seat, and then he strode across to his horse and, once mounted, did not look back at the house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘He’s gone abroad?’

  ‘To Paris, yes, child.’ Wilhelmina busied herself with smoothing down her coverlet so she didn’t have to look at Daisy’s face because its expression pained her, and she prayed she might be forgiven when she added offhandedly, as though she wasn’t aware what her words were doing to the white-faced girl, ‘My brother seems to think there is a young lady William is rather partial to across the water. Of course he has spent a considerable amount of time with his cousins - Gwendoline’s sister’s boys - in the past, so that is quite feasible.’

  Like someone mesmerised, Daisy continued to measure out the various pills and potions her mistress had to take every morning before she set foot out of bed, but all she could think was, He has gone. And he didn’t even say goodbye.

  It had been three long weeks since the day of her birthday and not once in all that time had William called at the house. But then, she had kept telling herself, there could be all sorts of reasons for that. Nevertheless, the longing to see him had grown with each passing day and for the past weeks Daisy had had a physical ache in her chest morning, noon and night.

  She just didn’t understand what had happened, she repeated silently for the umpteenth time. From calling almost every other day when she had first started at the house, he had suddenly curtailed his visits in the summer and for the last little while they had seen nothing of him at all. But she had her answer now, didn’t she? In the shape of this nameless young French lady.

  She bit hard on her lip. She couldn’t cry, not now, not in front of Miss Wilhelmina, she told herself fiercely. Time enough for that
when she was in the privacy of her room.

  Wilhelmina was well aware of the struggle going on in the young girl she had come to love like a daughter over the past months, and for the first time in her long life she was suffering from the emotion of guilt. But, she reassured herself, this was all for Daisy’s ultimate good. She would have a wonderful life with Parson Lyndon, and as his wife would be looked up to and respected in the small community in which they would live and work. There were times when you had to be cruel to be kind, and this was definitely one of them.

  The parson had been calling even more frequently over the last weeks, and with William’s continuing absence Daisy had obviously begun to look forward to his visits. Wilhelmina emphasised this to herself, sure it would all work out splendidly.

  And William? She thought back to her brother’s visit the day before while Daisy had been at the fishing village. Augustus had been more than a little annoyed at the boy’s departure.

  ‘Refused outright to consider Priscilla McKenzie or the Routledge girl, and wouldn’t even attend Gwendoline’s last dinner party,’ he had grumbled darkly. ‘Damn it, but the young cur needs a good horse whipping! I tell you, Wilhelmina, I was glad to see him leave for Paris. The boy is a disappointment, and his poor mother is beside herself at his refusal to take Priscilla after all our efforts to arrange the match.’